The breeze carried the stray cry of a seagull, but the man before me was silent. Finally, he offered one slow nod and moved to lean against the column beside me. The scent of juniper mixed with the marshy salted air and I took a deep breath before sliding a little further away.
He rested the back of his head against the wood. “You haven’t pushed me. You’ve let me . . . I’m not even sure what I’ve said. Just that you’ve listened.”
The lines of his neck and jaw were tight, but I was grateful he couldn’t see the relief on my face. His new memories weren’t detailed. Was that Sal’s intervention? Or had Cara been that specific in her request? Was it her idea for him to remember that I’d been kind so he’d have someone to talk to . . . ? Or had she been angry that I was allowed to remember the truth?
I held in a sigh. Of course she’d been angry. Jealous, furious, resentful—I would’ve been.
Not if you loved him enough to want someone to know his truth.
Maybe. But in the glimpses I’d seen, their relationship was . . . complicated. Unbidden, my thoughts flickered between his reaction when I’d mentioned him being a father, and her awkward revelation about the guy at the beach. I pinched the skin between my eyes and twisted.
“When the taxi showed up last Monday, I was fixing her lunch. It was almost noon, and I knew she’d wake up and be hungry . . . you know.” He turned to look at me, so he remembered talking about my eating patterns, too. “The dogs started barking when the taxi pulled into the driveway, and she . . . she came downstairs before the driver even had a chance to beep. She had a small bag packed. A tiny thing. I thought it was her purse, at first.
“She kissed me on the cheek and told me I was too nice.” There was no humor in his wry smile. “And then she walked out. I don’t even know where she was going. I didn’t ask.” Shame and confusion clouded his eyes. “Why didn’t I ask? Who’ll take care of them . . . ?” He was asking me—needing me—but all I could think was Oh, God. She isn’t coming back. If Sal had told me the truth, then Cara had decided to stay gone. But gone where? With her child? With Sal’s people? Or just . . . gone?
And this was all Adam was left with? He thought his wife had left him because he was too nice? But why did he remember the baby? Wouldn’t it have been kinder to erase the memory of the child, too? Or would that have been too complicated since so many people knew . . . ? Her doctor . . . other friends . . . Maureen and Phil. Their memories would have needed . . . adjusting . . . too.
My eyes were stinging again. I had no idea what to say. I wanted to hold him and tell him it would be alright, but that was completely the wrong thing to do—and probably a lie, anyway. And so I said nothing.
His gaze had trailed down to the weathered gray planks under his feet before I finally allowed myself to let go of the column and reach for his hand. He took it in both of his, and we stayed like that, each immersed in our own thoughts, until Eileen came searching for us.
The grin that spread over my child’s face made me pull my hand free. I slid off the railing, torn at wanting to comfort him and knowing Cara hadn’t really left him. Not like he thought, anyway. And Eileen’s shameless happiness . . . ? We were going to have a long talk.
Not today, though. She’d seemed to take the whole extraterrestrial thing in stride, but she was still just a kid. She couldn’t be expected to grasp adult complexities when even her mother was struggling. I’d squash her happy family fantasy tomorrow.
I stayed a step behind them as they went in for lunch, composing my face—yet again—and trying to rub away the sensation of his skin. Friction wasn’t enough, though, and I hesitated, afraid to cross my own threshold and continue this cruel farce, this mockery of loss. I peered at the air, the invisible division of the open doorway, unwilling to take that symbolic step without a signal, some sort of guidance that the best I could do was going to be good enough.
Angels? A little help here?
Nothing.
I blinked and softened my focus again, looking at the empty space surrounded by the door frame. That was odd. Shifting my focus always worked. Except around Eileen, but she was the only one. A flare of nervousness sputtered in my stomach, and I tried again.
“You comin’?” Adam stepped back into my line of sight. “Looking at your angels?”
Eileen’s head popped into view before I could answer—before I could even think of what to answer. Where was his swirl? I could always see angels around him!
“Isn’t it nice to have your secret out in the open?” Her allusion registered vaguely, but I was already shaking my head.
No. I wasn’t looking at them. They weren’t there. I looked out over the yard, but still nothing. In the shade around my feet . . . nothing. Eileen pushed past Adam and squinted up at me.
“Lightning.” Her face paled even as I felt my own blood drain, but she pivoted smoothly to Adam. “Lightning flashed in our window last night, but it’s happened before. She’ll see ‘em again soon.” She shooed him back in the house with, “Y’all are letting the sandwiches get cold!”—but once he was out of sight, she flung her arms around me and whispered, “It’ll be okay, Mom.”
I clung to her words as I dredged up one more smile and followed her into the house. It’ll be okay. It will be okay. Somehow, everything would be okay.
Feeling My Way
That night I couldn’t sleep.
